


Combustion

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fire Powers, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "More than anything Meis likes how hot Gueira feels when they’re together like this, with their clothing tossed into an unceremonial heap next to the bed where they are both tangled together as close as they can get." Gueira and Meis indulge in more than their mutual desire and find the experiment illuminating.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	Combustion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dipuc (TomAyto10)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/gifts).



Gueira runs hot when he’s with Meis.

They all do, to some extent. The mutation that brought out their abilities and gave them the title of Burnish that they all bear with pride tends to increase their body heat by a few degrees, no matter what they’re doing. Meis appreciates the extra warmth in the colder months, and it’s certainly convenient to not have to worry about wearing a coat for anything other than reasons of style, but more than anything he likes how hot Gueira feels when they’re together like this, with their clothing tossed into an unceremonious heap next to the bed where they are both tangled together as close as they can get. Gueira seems radiant in times like this, as if the fire that sings in Meis’s veins is thrumming an answering glow beneath Gueira’s skin as well, until Meis sometimes finds himself breathless and gasping with heat even before Gueira has angled a leg up so he can sink himself into Meis sprawling languid and radiant beneath him.

They fit together well. Meis likes the growl of Gueira’s voice, and Gueira likes the fall of Meis’s hair, and their chances at privacy are limited enough that they both know to take advantage of whatever they can get. Meis is sure they’ve been glimpsed before, or heard, on those occasions when Gueira finds a particularly good angle for his motion and a shout of appreciation catches Meis too off-guard to close his mouth around it, but the other Burnish know too much about living on the run to begrudge the two of them what happiness they can find together. Their lives are things of adrenaline, designed to flare and burnt out as soon as their fuel is spent, and if they wish to spend some part of that thrilling energy on each other no one can say they are wrong to do so.

Gueira thrusts forward hard, with force enough to jolt Meis’s hips against the sheets and flash white-heat behind the other’s eyes, and Meis forgets his vague considerations of the rest of their group, and in fact of the world and existence as a whole beyond the immediate demand of Gueira’s cock moving inside him. His head goes back, his throat flexes on a moan, and over him Gueira huffs a breathless laugh.

“Like that?” he asks, but the question is rhetorical and he’s already moving to slide his arm around Meis’s waist so he can lift the other’s hips up off the thin mattress beneath them. Meis submits to this without a suggestion of complaint, only moving to lift an arm to brace at the wall over his head as he braces both legs around Gueira’s hips to offer what support he can. When Gueira draws back to thrust into him again Meis’s back arches and his toes curl with the shudder of sensation that comes alight within him. Gueira moves again, without waiting for more encouragement than the flutter of Meis’s lashes and the huff of his breathing, and Meis tips his head back against his bracing arm and lets the arousal smoldering within him stir to a burn enough to consume him.

Gueira tightens the fingers of the hand he has bracing at the mattress under Meis’s shoulders and continues to move, stroking with a rough, desperate pace that spreads heat quivering through Meis’s arms and tightening to strain along his thighs. They’re both flushed with warmth, Meis can feel the color staining his body to pink and can see Gueira’s tanned skin going dark across his cheeks and spreading over his bare chest. Gueira’s hair is slick with sweat and clinging to his forehead; Meis can feel the sticky weight of his own locks tangled under the shift of his shoulders and holding heat at the back of his neck. It would be unbearable at any other time, in any other situation; at the moment Meis just finds his breath coming with panting haste, as the arousal pulling his cock taut and hard towards his stomach follows the dizzying wave of warmth building in him. The heat is rising around them both, radiating to waves in the air and aching in Meis’s chest with each breath he drags to fill the span of his lungs; and then Gueira stops, his forward rhythm stuttering to a halt, and Meis gasps a breath and opens his eyes wide with the chill of surprise.

Gueira is still leaning over him, his shoulder still tense with the effort of holding himself up while his other arm is supporting the greater part of Meis’s weight off the bed. His cheeks are flushed, his breathing is hot, but he doesn’t look disoriented or distracted. There’s no question of his arousal in the moment, not when Meis can feel the proof of it full within him; there’s no sound from the other side of the shut door, nothing to interrupt them. Meis blinks, and lifts his head from the sweat-damp sheets beneath him so he can look up more directly at the other. “Gueira?”

Gueira drags a breath. He sounds like he’s struggling for it, like he’s fighting with the heat wrapping the both of them so closely. “Meis,” he grates out, past teeth set as tight as if they’re in the middle of a fight, as if he’s holding himself back instead of giving in to the latent desire that crackles sparks between them no matter where they are. “I want--” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, breaking off the desperation in his voice unspoken.

Meis stares up at him. “What?”

Gueira hisses an inhale and gusts it free all at once. “I want to  _ burn_.”

Meis understands at once. Gueira’s words claim the ache that lies under his skin, give shape to the unformed want that he has carried with him from the first moment his outstretched palm burst into the multicolored flames that made him one of the Burnish that have become the only family he needs, anymore. The want is a constant, so thoroughly ingrained into every moment of Meis’s existence that he has grown accustomed to not looking at it anymore, to pushing it to the back of his awareness while he lives the rest of his life around it; but as soon as Gueira puts it to the shape of words it comes surging forward, roaring into a blaze of desire as keen and intense as the orgasmic pleasure that is straining through Meis’s muscles and aching through the length of his cock. For a moment it’s almost too much, as if Gueira’s words might call the flames forth from Meis’s skin to engulf the both of them together; Meis has to drop himself back to the bed before he can gasp a breath to contain it, to slam his usual restraint back around the heat in him before it wrenches free to tear through the space around him the way it did when he first awakened. He left destruction in his wake, that time, in the form of a burnt-out shell of an apartment and more injured bystanders than he will ever be comfortable remembering; it is that as much as anything that reassures him in his present life, that he can no more hurt the other Burnish around him than he can injure himself with his own flames. They are theirs, as much a part of Gueira as they are of Meis; and then Meis sees the structure of what Gueira is asking for, and his breath catches on the force of desire that rushes through him.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, and he’s letting his arm go from where he’s bracing at the wall to reach up and clutch around Gueira’s shoulders, to arch himself up from the bed to meet the strain of the other’s body over him. “Yes, please,  _ yes_.”

“Can I?” Gueira asks, ducking his head over Meis’s shoulder in capitulation to the pull of the other’s hold. Meis can feel the tremor of tension under his arm as clearly as he can hear it shaking under Gueira’s voice. “Right now?”

“Yes,” Meis says, and then, in allowance to restraint: “Not on the bed,” as he considers the minimal surroundings of the room around them. There’s not much there to be destroyed, but the Burnish aren’t exactly overstocked with supplies, and there’s no point to disintegrating what they don’t need to. Meis wraps his other arm around Gueira’s shoulders and tightens his legs around the other’s hips as he ducks his chin towards the far side of the room. “Against the wall over there.”

“Yeah,” Gueira says, and pulls to lift Meis up off the bed and against his chest. It takes a moment for him to get to his feet, and another to stumble across the room to the bare wall Meis had indicated, but Meis doesn’t protest the delay any more than he notices the force with which Gueira’s movement shoves his back against the corrugated metal behind him. He’s too focused on the grip he has around Gueira’s shoulders, and the fit of his legs looped around the other’s waist, until when Gueira pins him back against the wall Meis groans more from the satisfaction of the force than the bruising impact against his back.

“There,” Gueira says. He’s breathless, with the effort or anticipation or both, but his hands are steady when he grips at Meis’s hips to hold him back against the wall, and when he thrusts into the other again there’s no decrease in the strength of the motion. It seems stronger if anything, urged to greater intensity by enthusiasm, and Meis shudders another moan and tightens his arm around Gueira’s shoulders to brace himself against the force of the other’s body working in him.

Gueira doesn’t give any warning for the flames, and Meis doesn’t need one. He can feel them building, can track their presence radiating under Gueira’s skin as if he can see into the core of the other’s being even with his eyes shut and his face pressing into the flex of Gueira’s shoulder. The fire uncurls from Gueira’s chest, swelling out until it breaks free of the constraints of his body and spreads across the expanse of his skin; but Meis is burning too, his hands gripping at Gueira’s shoulders and his thighs wrapping Gueira’s hips and his chest glowing with a radiance that seems to spill from the space of his ribcage to pour up his throat and illuminate his parted lips to vivid color. Meis tips his head back, moaning with the pleasure of the heat unfurling in him, and Gueira goes incandescent, bursting into light that envelops Meis’s own flames until they are wrapped together in a single column of illumination. Meis can feel it pulsing around them, the heat surging higher in waves that match the thrust of Gueira’s cock stroking into him, and when he digs his nails in to scratch at Gueira’s back Gueira moans encouragement and leans in to push Meis harder to the steel wall behind him.

Meis has never felt the flames like this before. He knows their hum, has long since grown accustomed to the constant, aching desire to set free the fire that seems to seethe just under his skin, sometimes, as if it might be knocked free for a misstep or a glancing scratch. But even in the midst of a fight, when the fire is roaring free from him with every swing of his arm and motion of his head, he’s never felt as complete as he does now. He is radiant, glowing with fire pouring from every part of his body, the burn rising higher with every gasping breath of incandescence; and Gueira is here with him, matching his heat stroke for stroke, until flames are roaring out from their joined bodies as if made the brighter on the fuel of the other. Meis can see the fire if he opens his eyes, can watch the burn flicker and lick against the heat-haze that has wrapped he and Gueira together, and in his body there is a radiance of satisfaction, as he gives way to all his desire at once. Gueira’s body presses against his own, fixing Meis in place against the wall as their joined desire ignites the air in the room fever-hot, and Meis clings to Gueira’s neck, and moans encouragement against his ear, and lets himself burn.

Meis has lost all his attention to detail, has lost his concept of the space between himself and Gueira, between himself and the fire, between even the separate parts of his body aching and trembling with the rising need for friction, for pressure, for satisfaction. He can hear his own voice as if it is someone else’s, rising to a moan that peals like a bell with each thrust Gueira takes into him, and his body is shaking, his legs flexing to cramping tension and his fingers tightening to claw for traction at Gueira’s back. But Meis is thinking of none of that, is paying no conscious attention at all to the shudders of heat rippling through his body to blaze at the air; all his focus is narrowing down to the knot of anticipation growing within him, the force of impossible pressure building higher with each stroke of Gueira moving into him. His body, the flames, the rasp of his heat-strained breathing; they’re all unimportant, insignificant, so long as the friction working inside him doesn’t ease, so long as the pace of Gueira’s motion doesn’t slow.

“Fuck,” Gueira gasps, the sound raw against Meis’s shoulder. The heat of his breath carries the burn of a flame, as if to scar a painless brand over Meis’s bare skin. “Meis.”

“Don’t stop,” Meis says, and lifts a hand from Gueira’s shoulder to clutch at the back of the other’s head. His fingers are shifting, hardening into the armored coating that his flames create for him when they venture out into the world; the change gives him a stronger grip to tighten at the back of Gueira’s head and fix around his shoulders. “Give me more.”

Gueira groans, the sound almost pained in his throat, and moves into a thrust hard enough to crush Meis back against the wall behind him. His hold on Meis’s hips is tightening as his hands shift to collect fire-hardened strength of their own; Meis groans encouragement and locks his legs closer around Gueira’s hips. Gueira thrusts into him, moving so hard Meis can hardly tell the separate strokes from the ache filling him, the heat stoking hotter and harder within his body; and then Gueira’s body jolts forward into Meis, and he shouts with the force of his orgasm tearing free from him. There is a rush of heat within Meis as Gueira comes into him, and Meis feels himself burst into the incandescence of his own orgasm as if Gueira’s was a spark to set him alight. His head goes back, a moan drags raw pleasure tearing from his throat, and Meis comes with a surge of heat that explodes out from him to eclipse the room, and Gueira, and Meis himself. He is nothing, he is everything, heat is coruscating behind his eyes and rippling through his body and all he can do is let it burn him down to ash.

The room is hazy with heat when Meis comes back to some part of his vision once more. The flames have faded in his and Gueira’s post-orgasmic distraction, but the air is still syrupy, Meis can feel it rippling around his body with liquid weight when he turns his head to look around. Gueira has fallen forward, his head pressed to Meis’s shoulder while he pants through the afterglow of his orgasm; Meis is still pressed to the wall, although that support is far less steady than he feels it should be. The basic outline of the room remains the same, too, as far as the walls around them and the door at the far side; but that is all that there is. The bed that Gueira moved them away from, the pile of their discarded clothes, the minimal pieces of furniture scattered in the room: they are all gone, burnt to nothing more than a few fragments of ash left to drift through the superheated air. Meis thinks the walls would be gone, too, if they were made of anything more fragile than steel-solid weight; even as it is, they are glowing with the heat that Meis and Gueira have been radiating, and Meis can feel a distinct softness in the half-melted wall at his back, even if the steel has been able to retain its basic integrity.

Meis closes his mouth and swallows to find the moisture to speak. “Well,” he says. “So much for trying to keep the bed intact.”

Gueira makes a noise of confusion against his shoulder before shifting to lift his head. He stares at the bed, or rather what little remains of where the bed had been, before he clears his throat to rasp an answer. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Meis shifts his position where Gueira is pinning him back against the wall; his legs are beginning to protest the tension he is sustaining around Gueira’s hips to keep himself upright. “Let’s find a place with better heat tolerance before next time.” Gueira snorts a laugh and Meis grins as the other looks back at him. “Lio won’t appreciate us destroying whole rooms of our hideouts on a regular basis.”

“Yeah,” Gueira says. “I guess not.” He slides one of his arms around Meis’s back to brace the other steady as he ducks his head closer. “Still worth it.”

Meis smiles. “Absolutely,” he says, and turns his head to make an invitation of his mouth as Gueira leans in to press their lips together and slide his tongue in to wander over the heat of Meis’s own. Meis shuts his eyes, and tips his head farther to the side, and lets himself melt to the warmth of Gueira’s mouth on his.


End file.
